To Be A Runner

Chapter 47: An Unimportant Mission

"Thank you," Jody says with a grin as I hand her her lunch, which today is apple slices, what I think is canned chicken, and a piece of bread that's actually good since we found the ingredients to make it ourselves. It's not perfect, mostly because Francesca put me in charge of making the bread so she could stock up the new supplies. She said something about running low on canned beans, which is odd because I know I saw some the other day...

But she didn't yell at me when the bread didn't rise completely, although I'm guessing that's because of the look Sarah gave her while cutting apples. I've noticed Eight has been a lot nicer to me lately; She's not exactly friendly, but polite and... almost protective. I think it's because of what I said when we spent the night at Avery and Travis's home. I don't think we will ever become friends though. We may become closer, but not friends.

The sound of footsteps approaching causes me to look up, and I give a closed lipped smile as I see Chris McShell, although he doesn't return it. His focus is on getting over to the kitchen area without dropping his notes.

Countless papers are cluttered and crinkled in his hands, and his glasses are about a second away from slipping off his face. With his blond hair sticking straight up as it is I would think with a lab coat he'd look exactly like a real life version of Cornelius Robinson.

"Hello, Runner Five," He greets, and while I know he's expecting his plate, he is barely able to keep a grasp at what he has already.

My hand reaches out to grab the notepad and pen nearby; Francesca gave it to me, saying she needed to trust what I was saying or something like that. I'm not too sure. I was too busy thinking about how weird she is to listen.

'Do you want me to carry your plate to a table for you? I'm done anyway,' I scribble down, and it's true. Chris is one of the last to come get food.

As his eyes scan the words through his lopsided glasses, I half expect him to say no, like most people do in movies. Then they try to do it all themselves and end up epically failing and then get help, but to my surprise he smiles and nods.

"Yes, that would be quite helpful, actually."

He starts shuffling toward one of the nearer picnic tables, clutching onto his papers and notes like his life depends on it. I grab his plate, my notebook and pen and head out of the kitchen, following behind him calmly and causally. Chris drops all of his notes on the picnic table with a sigh and immediately starts to sort them out. I place his plate on a spot that isn't taken up by paper.

"Thank you." He doesn't take his eyes off his notes as he takes a bite of bread. "I didn't really want to eat-would rather be reviewing everything-but I will need my energy when I go on my run today."

'Halloween run?' I slide my notepad to him, just overlapping the corner of the note he's currently reading. After he reads my question, he finally looks up at me.

"No, I'm actually going to be doing a study on the zombies, which is why I'm reviewing the notes," He explains.

I nod and take a seat beside him, listening with interest.

"I have a theory on their movements as a group. If I can time their smaller movements, then maybe I'll find a pattern and be able to pinpoint where they'll be going and what exact movements they'll do next."

I nod, feeling a small smile appear on my face, which Chris is quick notice. "What's that grin for?"

'I'm just thinking on how Sam is going to fangirl over you saying that.'

A bubble of laughter leaves his throat. "Yes, I'm sure he would be interested in what I have to say, but he won't be on coms when I run today."

My head naturally tips to the side. 'Maxine then?'